Passengers
by amythis
Summary: In a parallel universe, Tony is Angela's cabbie one memorable winter night.
1. Back of the Cab

Tony's fare that February evening was a tall, beautiful, sophisticated, and very pregnant blonde. He got out of the cab and helped her into the back. "You want me to take you to the hospital?" he half-joked.

"No, just Grand Central."

"You got it." He went back around and got in the driver's seat. He drove in silence for awhile, slowly, since it was a Friday in Manhattan and there were a few snow flurries. He wondered about his passenger. He'd picked her up at Wallace & McQuade, which was a big advertising agency. What was she doing working that late in a pregnancy? Maybe she wasn't married. Or maybe she was but her husband was a bum and couldn't support her. Or maybe the agency needed a pregnant woman.

"You a model?"

She laughed. "I'm flattered, but you should know it's a waste of time to use pick-up lines on me."

He scowled. "I was just making conversation." He drove in silence again.

...

Angela could just imagine how her mother would react if she knew that a young, good-looking cabbie, with big brown eyes and wavy brown hair, had hit on her in the ninth month of pregnancy. But then Mother thought Angela should divorce Michael. She didn't understand how important his work was to him. Not that Angela liked him being away so much, especially right now, but he'd promised to be back in time for the birth of their child, and that was still two weeks away.

Angela hadn't planned to keep working this far into her pregnancy, but her work was important, too. And her current major account would've been snapped up by that snake Jim Peterson if she turned her back for a second. She'd finish things up next week and then take some time off for the birth and the recovery. A month should do it.

Not that she didn't want to spend time home with her child. She sometimes had fantasies of herself as a devoted mother with a large family and a doting husband. But she knew that wasn't who she and Michael were.

The cabbie startled her by asking, "You a secretary?"

Was he hitting on her again, or just making conversation? "I'm a junior account executive."

"So junior account executives don't get time off to have babies?"

"Well, most of them are men. And I wanted to keep working."

"Yeah? Well, if you were my wife, you wouldn't be working at all, especially right now."

Great, her cabbie was a male chauvinist pig. "Oh, really? And what would I be doing if I were your wife? Bending over a hot stove, barefoot?"

"I wouldn't make you cook right now, but yeah, you'd be barefoot, so I could rub your swollen feet. And I'd do the cooking."

"Oh boy."

"I happen to be a great cook."

"What a shame I didn't marry you."

He scowled at her in the mirror again. "Listen, Lady, I'm already married, and that's exactly how I treated my wife three and a half years ago."

He seemed young to have been a husband and father that long, but maybe he was just boyish-looking. She felt guilty finding him attractive, particularly since they were both married. He wasn't even her type. She blamed the pregnancy hormones.

...

Tony knew it was wrong to argue with a fare. One of the first things Alex, his mentor, taught him was, no matter how controversial the topic a passenger brings up, don't engage. You don't have to agree, but don't get emotional about it. But this junior account executive broad was really getting to him, from her women's libber attitude to her thinking he was hitting on her. Not that Tony hadn't been known to indulge in some harmless flirtation, but that's all it was. He was 100% faithful to Marie. And if he were going to cheat, it wouldn't be with this chick in the back of his cab.

He was about to apologize, even though it wasn't his fault, when two things happened suddenly, only one of which he immediately realized. A snowstorm blew in out of nowhere, and his passenger's water broke.

"Oh God!" she gasped.

"Yeah, it's really coming down now."

"That's going to make getting to the hospital more difficult."

"Don't even joke about a thing like that."

"I'm not joking."

He looked at her in the mirror and saw she wasn't. "Oh God!"

"Does this mean you're not one of those cab drivers who delivers babies in the backseat?"

"Sorry, no."

"Well, that's going to affect your tip."

It was probably a good sign that she was still making jokes. "Are you having contractions?" She winced in a way that answered his question. "Do you want me to time them?"

"You could but it's my first baby and I don't know how far apart they're supposed to be."

"Me either."

She winced again, but this time apparently at his grammar, since she muttered, "Neither." He was tempted to ask if she'd rather have an English professor deliver her baby, but he didn't think it was the time to be sarcastic with her. Then she asked, "What did you do when your wife had a baby?"

"Bought cigars."

"I don't think that would help right now."

He knew Louie would probably fire him for this, but he pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the engine, and said, "Button up your coat."

...

Angela stared at the cabbie. Was he kicking her out into the snow? She should've known better than to argue with him, but she'd been so irritable lately. "You're making me walk?"

"Well, I'd carry you but I've got a bum shoulder. And we'd never make it to the nearest hospital. But I know a doctor who lives two blocks from here. I think we can make it in time."

"Oh." He expected her to argue, but after a moment she said, "All right."

He was wearing his hat, gloves, and jacket already. Louie always stuck him with the taxi that had the worst heater, he said because Tony was the rookie, even after six months. Of course when he started, around Sam's birthday, it had been the taxi with no air-conditioning.

Angela's internal thermostat was out of whack because of pregnancy. Sometimes she sweated even on cold days. Still, she buttoned up her coat since she'd be walking two city blocks in a snowstorm. She couldn't think of an alternative, other than waiting in the back of the cab while the driver went for help, and hope that she wouldn't have to deliver the baby all alone.

When they were standing on the sidewalk next to each other, she realized he wasn't much taller than she was. But even with his winter clothes, she could sense he was probably muscular enough to carry a pregnant woman two city blocks, if not for his bum shoulder.

"Uh, you wanna lean on me?"

"What about your shoulder?"

"The right one's OK."

"Oh, yes, thank you."

"All in a day's work."

She nestled against him and his right arm wrapped around her. She felt really right there and Tony felt really unfaithful, even though he was just trying to be a good Samaritan.

"What about...?" she began, and he expected her to ask about his wife. But then she continued, "...My things?"

"Your things?"

"My purse and briefcase. I left them in the taxi."

He let go. "Don't go anywhere."

She felt twenty degrees colder without his body heat, but that wasn't the only reason she shivered. Yes, he was sexy, with, she now noticed, a great butt, but he was also sweet and tender, judging by the way he held her. She envied his wife. Michael had never held her like that.

The cabbie came back with her purse strap across his chest, bandolier style, and her briefcase tucked under his bad shoulder. "How did you hurt your shoulder?" she blurted out.

He sighed. "You wanna hear my life story?"

She shrugged. "It'll pass the time."

He put his arm around her and started leading her towards the doctor. His mouth was near her ear, so she could hear him speaking softly, despite the storm. She was hardly even aware of the snowflakes and wind on her face, although she couldn't ignore the pain she was in from her impatient passenger. Still, the cabbie's deep voice was soothing.

"I was born in Brooklyn twenty-three years and a bunch of months ago. I had my first kiss at eleven with a girl I never saw again. I dated a bunch of girls but Marie, my wife, is the only one I ever loved. I played in the minor leagues for a couple years, till I hurt my shoulder sliding into second. Now I box, since that kind of injury doesn't matter as much in boxing. I have one little girl, Samantha, who looks just like Marie. We hope to have more kids when money's not so tight. We're Italian and Catholic, and we love kids anyway. I guess that about covers it."

"Everything but your name."

He chuckled. "Tony Micelli."

"Angela Bower. Forgive me for not shaking hands."

"Maybe later. So what's your story, Angela?" It felt too informal to call a passenger by her first name, but he still didn't know if she was a Miss or a Mrs., and he was too old-fashioned to say Ms.

"Well, I'm pregnant."

"Really?"

"Yes, just a little bit. And I was born in Fairfield, Connecticut, about a quarter century ago. I had my first kiss at thirteen and didn't date very much. And, um, Michael, my husband, is the only man I ever loved, although I don't see much of him since he travels a lot, as a documentary filmmaker. And you already know about my career."

"You want more kids?"

She winced. "At the moment, my answer is no."

"It's gonna be OK, Angela. We're almost there."

"And this doctor is good?"

"I've heard he's the best. Of course he's not exactly an obstetrician, but they learn everything in med school, right?"

"What kind of doctor is he?"

"A veterinarian. Specializing in cats."

Angela ground to a halt.


	2. Information

"And what is your wife's name?"

"Marie."

"Angela!"  
"Angela Marie? Or Marie Angela?"

"No, this lady's name is Angela Bower. I don't know her middle name."

"Katherine!"  
"Sorry," I sheepishly told the receptionist, "we just met. I'm her cabbie."

"Ah, that explains how you got through the snowstorm."

"Yeah." I didn't feel like explaining that it had been partly on foot. Mrs. Bower hadn't been thrilled to find out that Dr. Camuti was a feline veterinarian, but she realized she didn't have much choice at the moment. So i got her the rest of the way there, and luckily there was an elevator in Camuti's building. The receptionist was confused at first why I'd brought her a pregnant human patient, but then she shrugged and started on the paperwork.

"Ms. Bower, is there someone Mr., uh..."

"Micelli," I said.

"Someone Mr. Micelli could call so he could fill out the form while I get you prepped for the doctor?"

"My mother," Angela said and then gasped out the number.

I wanted to say that I had already done enough and should be getting back to my cab, before it was snowed in or vandalized. But i did feel bad for Angela, going through this alone. So i said thanks when the receptionist handed me the phone. I waited till the two women left the room before I dialed the number I recalled.

After a couple rings, a woman answered, "Mona's Massage Parlor."

"Uh, sorry, I must have the wrong number."

"Not with a voice like that. What's your name, Baby?"

"Tony."

"And what can I do for you, Tony?"

"Um, this is going to sound crazy, but do you know an Angela Bower?"

"Of course. She's my sister."

Oh, that explained it. This must be Angela's wild younger sister, who still lived at home. "May I please speak to your mother?"

"My mother lives in England, and she's a lot less fun than I am."

"Uh, I'm a little confused."

"So am I. How do you know Angela?"

"Well, she's having a baby and I'm—"

"You're the real father!"

"Ay-oh, oh-ay! I just met her and I'm a happily married man."

"Too bad. You sound gorgeous."

"Well, thank you. But anyway I'm trying to reach your mother to tell her that Angela is having the baby right now."

"Oh no! I've got to be with her! Is she still in the city?"

"Yeah, but we're in the middle of a snowstorm. And there's not much you could do now, except maybe help me with the admittance forms."

"What hospital are you at?"

"Uh, it's a private practice." Nutty as this chick sounded, I still didn't think she'd be any happier about it being a vet's than Angela was.

"Oh. What sort information do they need? "

"Well, mother's maiden name to start with."

"Mona Robinson."

"So you're named after her?"

She sighed. "OK, you got me. I'm her mother, not her sister. But we could pass as sisters."

"Especially on the phone."

She didn't laugh. "My baby is having a baby! Is she all right?"

"I guess. Yeah, she's fine." I didn't know, but no point in worrying her.

"And how exactly do you know her?"

"I'm her cabbie."

Now she laughed. But she did help me complete the form. We were just finishing up when an elderly man with a medical bag came in.

"Dr. Camuti?"

"That's me. Did you bring your patient in or is she home hiding under the bed from the storm?"

"Uh, listen, Mona, I've got to go. You've been great. Thanks!" I hung up before she could reply.

"I hope she's with you because I'm not going out in that again. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"She's here and she's in labor."

"Has she had kittens before?"

"No, she's human."

"Oh. That's not exactly my field."

"I know, Doc, but we're desperate."

"Relax, Young Man, I never turn anyone away. Your wife is in good hands."

"Oh God, I've got to call Marie! And Louie! Excuse me."

"Um, I'll go check on the patient."

I waited until after he left the room before I called the garage. I was in no hurry to have Louie yell at me. I knew he'd call me a moron for abandoning the taxi. And he'd call me a sap if he knew why. But I knew it was my responsibility to report in.

"Hello, this is the Sunshine Cab Company. Who is speaking?"

The voice was too cheerful, high-pitched, and thickly accented to be Louie. "Latka?"

"Yes, Latka was speaking, but now it is you, Sir. Oh, now it's me again."

"Listen, Latka, it's Tony. Please tell Louie I'm stuck out in the storm, but I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Dokey-okey."

Well, that was easier than I expected. I knew that Louie would throw a fit when I returned, but I'd deal with it then. Now to deal with Marie.

Obviously, I was not going to tell my wife that I was attracted to my pregnant passenger. I knew my feelings for Angela were crazy, and probably just came from the situation I was in. I mean, Angela was good-looking, well, beautiful, but it's not like I never had a beautiful passenger before, and most of them were not pregnant, or married. Anyway, I'd tell Marie the general situation and that I'd be home as soon as I could.

No one answered at my apartment, although I let it ring a bunch of times. Finally, I called our neighbor Mrs. Rossini.

"Hi, Tony! What's up?" she bellowed.

I moved the phone away from my ear a little. "I was driving the cab in the storm and I had to take shelter." I decided not to get into the whole thing about my passenger. Mrs. Rossini can be kind of nosy.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but tell Marie I'll be back late."

"I will. You be careful out there, Tony."

"I will."

"Is that Daddy?"

"Are you watching Sam?"

"Uh, yeah. Marie's out with friends. Bowling."

"Oh." Well, at least she wasn't worrying about me.

"Can I talk to Daddy?"

"Sure."

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, Sweetheart. Are you being good?"

"Yes, are you?"

I knew it was a three-year-old's idea of a joke, but I still felt guilty. I reminded myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong. In fact, I was helping a stranger, which people don't do enough in New York.

Before I could joke back, the receptionist returned and said, "If you're done running up our phone bills, there's a scared young woman who could really use a friend right now."


	3. Hands and Eyes

"So you're on your own?" the sympathetic nurse/receptionist asked.

"Well, sort of. I mean, I'm married, but my husband is out of the country right now. I'm not due for another two weeks."

She nodded. "And he wouldn't be able to get here in time anyway, not with that storm."

I sighed. If the weather were better, maybe Mother would come down to the city from Connecticut, but that just wasn't possible.

"At least you have your cabbie," she said with a smile.

"Uh, yes." He did seem, despite his prejudices, a nice guy. After all, he didn't have to call Mother. I'd have given a dollar to overhear their conversation but I was trying to focus on my baby. And get through the pain. "Does it always hurt this much?"

The nurse patted my hand. "It always hurts, sometimes more, sometimes less. It's easier for cats."

"Oh."

The doctor came in and said, "How are we doing?"

"I'm in the worst pain of my life and the nurse has a slight headache."

He came over and kissed the nurse on the top of her head. Then he looked at me. "Don't worry, we're married."

I nodded. Not that I cared that much at the moment, but they did seem to be a sweet old couple.

"As for your husband, he's calling a couple friends or relatives, Marie and Louie."

I shook my head. "Marie is his wife. I mean, he's not my husband. I don't know who Louie is."

"He's her cabbie," the nurse said. "I mean, the young man on the phone is her cabbie. I don't know who Louie is either."

"Ah. If you don't mind my asking, Young Lady, where is your husband?"

"Somewhere in South America."

"He travels a lot," said the nurse.

"I see. Well, then I guess you're on your own."

I burst into tears.

"Louie," the nurse began, and I thought she was talking about Tony's friend or relative, "you need to work on your bedside manner."

She didn't say it suggestively. I think they were both over 80, but I was still amused.

"My name is Louie also," he told me. "Louis J. Camuti. And I apologize. Most of my patients don't say much besides meow."

I nodded. "I apologize, too. I'm just a little emotional right now."

"I can't imagine why. Now let me take a look and see how you and the baby are doing. And, Alessandra, would you see if the cabbie is willing to step in?"

"Oh, I don't want to bother Tony!" I hardly knew him and this was such an intimate, personal time.

"Listen, Young Lady, you don't have a lot of choices right now of who can sit here and hold your hand and say comforting things. If you want to do this alone, fine. But that seems to be a nice young man, and one who's probably tough enough to take it if you squeeze his hand too hard."

I could've told the doctor that he was crazy, but the truth was, I wanted Tony there with me, if he wanted to be there. It had felt good to rely on his strength as we walked through the storm. It wasn't just about physical attraction. There was something about him that made me feel better, braver, stronger, and yet also brave and strong enough to be weak and scared.

"Well, all right, if he doesn't mind doing it." I'd already asked so much of him, when I'd just hoped for a ride to Grand Central.

While Mrs. Camuti went to talk to Tony, Dr. Camuti examined me and told me what point in the labor I was. "We might be here awhile, since it's your first baby. But you seem healthy and I don't think there will be complications."

I nodded. This could be worse.

After a few minutes, the nurse came back, followed shyly by Tony. "You sure?" he asked me, with his big brown eyes showing that he did want to do this, if it wasn't crossing a line.

I nodded. "Yes. And thank you."

...

I wouldn't have been able to get through it without Tony. Obviously, Dr. and Mrs. Camuti were offering the medical help, and I had the hardest job, but Tony's voice was soothing as he said, "You can do this! Keep going, push!" He really sounded like he believed in me, even though he knew nothing about me. Well, maybe he thought my being a career woman in the world of advertising means that I'm strong and determined, which I am, but it was a completely different side of myself that I was using now.

It did feel odd to have a stranger there, but not as odd as I expected. In some ways, Michael would've been more out of place, if he'd somehow been there. With Michael, everything is about how it affects him. Tony didn't mind my being the focus.

"You're doing something amazing! You're bringing life into the world! Don't stop now!"

So I kept going, until there was a fifth voice in the room, my son's voice. My beautiful little son, with tiny fingers and toes and big lungs.

"Oh, Angela, a boy!"

"Too bad you didn't get cigars," I teased. I realized suddenly that, other than my son and myself, I was in a room full of Italians, people whose culture is very baby-loving, especially firstborn sons. Although I think even if I had a daughter, Tony still would've been thrilled.

Not that Michael wouldn't be. Of course he would be pleased when he heard about the baby, although maybe annoyed with me for not waiting till his return. But right then, it felt like this was Tony's baby, too. I felt guilty about that, but I also loved it, which made me even guiltier.

I suddenly thought of the first boy I kissed, almost half a lifetime ago. He was an Italian with a swagger but also a tenderness about him. What if it hadn't just been one summer night? What if we had dated, gone steady, got engaged, built a life together? But of course I wouldn't have married an Italian street kid. Still, he probably would've been just as happy and proud about the baby as my cabbie was.

"Anthony," I murmured.

"What, Angela?"

I stared at him, his warm brown eyes suddenly seeming familiar. No! It couldn't be. I was just delusional from the delivery. (OK, and some mild drugs Dr. Camuti gave me.) Tony Micelli couldn't be that boy grown up, could he? For one thing, he was two years younger than I was, and my first kiss was from a fellow thirteen-year-old. And for another, it was just too huge of a coincidence that he'd show up twelve-and-a-half years later, especially under these circumstances.

Before I could find any words, I heard a familiar voice calling from the reception area, "Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?"

"Mona," Tony muttered.


	4. Scarves

I was embarrassed and surprised that Angela's mother had shown up. Embarrassed because of our conversation and because of a feeling that she would sense my forbidden feelings for her daughter and turn them into a joke. Surprised because as far as I knew, the snowstorm was still raging in Manhattan.

"Mother!" Angela exclaimed, as a very unmotherly woman, with a curvy body, red hair, and an outfit straight out of _Vogue,_ red cape included, stood in the doorway. "How did you get here?"

"Do you think you're the only one who can hail a cab? Ah, and this must be the cabbie." She looked me up and down and nodded approvingly.

"Uh, yes, this is Tony Micelli."  
"Pleased to officially meet you, Mr. Micelli, but it's time I met my grandchild." She wafted into the room like she was Ethel Barrymore or some other old-time stage actress and went to Angela's other side. I self-consciously let go of Angela's hand. "Oh, how adorable! Hello, Little Baby, I'm your mummy's mummy! Goo-goo-goo!" Maybe she was an actress. This was a completely different personality than the vamp on the phone.

"Mrs., uh..." the nurse/receptionist began.

"Robinson," Mona said.

"We still have some post-op things we need to do. So if you and Mr. Micelli wouldn't mind stepping into the reception area."

"Of course."

"We'll bring the baby out to you in a little while," Dr. Camuti said.

"Come along, Mr. Micelli, let's leave them to it." She kissed Angela on the forehead and then strolled out of the room, her long pink scarf trailing behind her. I followed sheepishly, which was how I'd entered the room. I did glance back at Angela, who looked like the Madonna as she held her newborn.

When we were seated, Mona said, "So, Mr. Micelli," and I expected her to ask my intentions towards her daughter. But she continued, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy."  
"Good, she can name it after you."

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Not even a middle name? All right."

"Uh, how did you get here?"

"I told you, by cab."

"In that storm?"

"There's no storm in Connecticut, and by the time I took the train to Grand Central, the snow was dying down in New York. So I hailed a taxi and here I am."

"Oh." I was about to get out of my chair and look out the window when she continued.

"By the way, Bobby told me that my daughter is in good hands with you."

"Bobby?"

"Yes, your friend at the Sunshine Cab Company."

"Oh, yeah. That was your cabbie?"

"Yes, we had a very interesting conversation on the way over."  
"I'll bet," I muttered. I could just imagine the razzing I was going to get when word spread around the garage.

"Tony, can I tell you a few things?"

"Do you have to?"

"Yes, I do, and I'd better do it now before they bring my grandson in here. One, married people sometimes have feelings for other people."  
"Oh, jeez!" She'd picked up on our feelings after seeing us together for one minute?

"And you and Angela were thrown together under very dramatic circumstances."

"Well, yeah, but I'm happily married."

"Yes, but Angela isn't."

"Listen, Lady, I don't want to hear this!"

"You have to, sorry. You're a tough guy, you can take it. So it is possible that Angela may develop a crush on you. You're gorgeous, strong, brave, kind, thrifty, etc. And if you were single, I would be urging Angela to dump Michael, well, more than I have been, and have a fling with you once she's recovered from childbirth."  
My "Oh God!" was muffled as I put my head in my hands.

"But you are, as you said and as Bobby told me, happily married. And so I think you're going to have to never see Angela again."

I uncovered my face. "I wasn't planning to!"

"No, not now. But you two went through something extraordinary together. And it'll be very tempting for you to want to see the baby again. Angela might even be thinking about making you the godfather. And if she weren't so vulnerable, I'd say sure. A heartwarming story in the cold city. But I know my daughter, and I think I know enough about you, that this might grow into something that neither of you can handle. And you've got a loving wife and daughter at home that you don't want to hurt."

I wanted to tell her she was crazy, that she was jumping to all sorts of conclusions. But I could see this happening as she talked about it. And I couldn't take that risk. "I, I don't know what to say."  
"Say, 'It's a pleasure meeting you, Mona. You're even more wise and beautiful in person than on the phone. But I've got to be going. My friend Bobby is waiting in the cab downstairs and he's going to help me dig my cab out of the snow, before I go home to Brooklyn.' "

"Uh, yeah, that."

"Have a safe drive, Mr. Micelli."

I nodded and grabbed the hat, scarf, and overcoat I'd shed before going into the delivery room. It felt weird to just walk away, to not even know what Angela would name the baby (not Anthony, please), to not even say goodbye. But Mona was right and I was so tired and drained.

It was light out and I realized with shock that it was, judging by the cloudy sun and the traffic, mid-morning. The hours of the labor and delivery hadn't exactly flown by but I'd been so focused on Angela and her baby that I hadn't really been aware of time passing. No wonder Mona had plenty of time to get there from Fairfield. I knew I needed sleep and I wasn't sure if I felt up to driving my cab, if it was salvageable.

"Hey, Tone," Bobby greeted me.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Hello, Tony Micelli," said a high-pitched voice from the backseat.

"You brought Latka?"

Bobby shrugged. "He was the only one around and we need someone to drive your cab. You're not up to it, are you?"

I sighed. "Not really." I'd been up all night and was emotionally drained.

"Get in. You're only two blocks away, right?"

"Yeah. Hey, how did you guys find me here?" I hadn't thought to ask Mona.

"That redhead said she heard you say Dr. Camuti's name, and I knew about Camuti the cat doctor."

"Oh, OK."

"Did the blonde lady have healthy kittens?" Latka asked.

"Uh, yeah, her son is fine."

"A boy? That's cool. They can name it after you," Bobby teased.

"Shut up," I muttered.

Latka isn't a driver. I'm not even sure if he has a license, here or in whatever country he's from. But he's a mechanic and he knows the cabs inside and out, so I felt comfortable with him driving mine back to the garage after the three of us excavated it. It looked like most of the snow had melted anyway by then.

"You wanna go back to the garage or you want me to take you home?" Bobby asked.

"I'll go home." Not only wasn't I ready to face Louie, but it was time to face Marie.

"OK, I'll take you. Latka, see you back at the garage."

"Dokey-oke."

Bobby drove in silence at first. I knew he was dying to ask me a bunch of questions now that Latka wasn't there, but maybe he felt bad for me and wanted to wait till I'd had some sleep. I couldn't help it though, I had to ask, "How did Latka know Angela is blonde?"

"The redhead showed us pictures."

"Oh."

"She's good-looking. The blonde I mean, although her mom's pretty hot for a broad in her 40s."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So what's going on with you, Tony? Just playing Good Samaritan or something more?"

"I don't know, Bobby. It was a weird night, OK?"

"Yeah. Did they ever tip you?"

I started laughing hysterically as I realized that they hadn't.

Bobby looked at me like he was worried about my sanity. Then he said, "I wouldn't mention that to Louie if I were you."


	5. Infinite

I woke up to what I thought was the sound of my baby crying, and then I realized it was a cat. I looked around. I was lying in a small bedroom, more like a spare bedroom than a hospital room. I ached from childbirth and wondered where my son was. Then I remembered the whole crazy night, from arguing with my cabbie to having him there during the labor. I wondered where he was. Would he have waited for me to wake up? No, he must've had to get back to work, back to his wife.

Then Mother tapped on the door and came in. "Would you like to see him?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll go get him."

There was so much I wanted to say to Tony. To thank him. To say that I wasn't sure what I was feeling for him but I would respect his commitment to Marie. To say goodbye.

Mother returned with my baby. I felt guilty that I'd been thinking of Tony. I realized I needed to focus on my child. Forget about my sweet, attractive and very married taxi-driver.

The baby was just as beautiful as I remembered, well, more because he wasn't as red-faced as right after birth. His eyes were like Michael's, big and brown. No, not like Tony's.

"What are you going to name him, Dear?"  
"I don't know. Michael and I talked about different names but, oh, I need to tell Michael!"

"I've sent a telegram. Hopefully it will find him."

Michael would be coming home. To see me and our child. What would we say to each other? Should I confess my feelings for Tony, or had they just come out of the situation? Maybe if I'd met Tony on an ordinary day, he'd have just been a cute cabbie.

"When do you think you'll be ready to go home?"

"I don't know. The Camutis have been very kind. But I can't stay here much longer. They're not really set up for human patients."

"Should I call a cab?"

I winced. I wasn't ready for her teasing.

"Dear, we need to talk about your marriage."  
"Mother, not now."

"Yes, now."

I don't know if the baby sensed I was upset, but he started crying. I ended up nursing him. I expected Mother to make a joke about my chest, but she just smiled like she was proud to see her daughter as a mother. It still felt unreal to me, even after childbirth. This little guy was dependent on me, needed me, in a way he'd never need anyone else. I knew I had to take care of him, protect him, no matter what happened with Michael.

Mrs. Camuti came in as the baby finished up. "How are you both doing?"

"I'm a little hoarse from talking," Mother said.

Mrs. Camuti smiled. "I meant your daughter and grandson. But I can get you a cough drop."

"Thank you. And could you take the baby back to his crib?"

"Of course."

After Mrs. Camuti left with the baby, Mother said, "Tony Micelli seems to be a wonderful man, but you can't let that affect your decision one way or the other about Michael."

"Mother, you've been recommending divorce since my wedding day."

"Well, I'm glad you waited. I wanted a grandchild. But now that Michael has served his purpose, maybe it's time to move on."

I shook my head. "Mother, I just had a baby. I'm not going to make a big decision like that right now. And maybe Michael will change now that he's a father."

"So you think the baby will save your marriage?"  
"That's not why I had him, but it might. Anyway, it's nothing to do with Tony either way."

"If you say so. But there's something about that man that got to you, and I don't think it was just the butt you could bounce a quarter off of."

I blushed, hesitated, and then said, "This is going to sound crazy, but I think Tony might be the first boy I ever kissed."

"Darling, I really don't think Tony went to your college, or any college."

"This was before college. Before high school. When I was 13, I kissed a boy at summer camp."  
"Angela, you went to an all-girls' camp."

"There was a boys' camp across the lake. For New York street kids, to get them out of the city in the summer. And I kissed an Italian boy named Anthony."  
"Oh, yes, that really narrows it down."

I shook my head. It was crazy. That would mean Anthony had been only eleven and lied about his age. And I didn't even know where Tony's first kiss was. I mean the geographical location.

"Dear, I'm as big a believer in Fate as anyone, but even if Anthony grew up to be your cabbie and birthing coach, that doesn't mean you're meant to be together."

"I know," I mumbled.

"Fate also gave him a wife he loves, who loves him."

I nodded and sighed. "I just thought it would be interesting if he was the same person."

"Your story is pretty interesting anyway. But it's over."  
I bit my lip and nodded again. Then I said, "Can you send him in? I want to say goodbye."

"He's gone, Dear. Hours ago."  
"Oh, yes, of course." I knew he couldn't stick around forever. "Did he leave me any message?"

"No, sorry."

Well, what could he say? Maybe it was better this way. He came into my life, maybe for the second time, just when I needed him. And now I had a beautiful, healthy child. "I just wish I could've thanked him."

"Or at least tipped him?"

"Oh no! I completely forgot."

"So did I. Do you want me to track him down?"

"No, I could never really repay him anyway." And maybe someday, if Fate permitted, our paths would cross again. New York is a big city but it's not infinite.

THE END FOR NOW

 **Author's Note: Louis J. Camuti (1893-1981) was a real feline veterinarian in New York, who wrote about his experiences in a couple of books, although I changed a few details about his life. This story was inspired by a dream I had where Angela and Mona met Tony in a disco in the late '70s, but for some reason it went in this direction. If I do a sequel, it will be under the crossover category, since the _Taxi_ characters will be more prominent than the cameos in this story.**


End file.
